Mysterious Skin
by scarylolita
Summary: At age 23, Kenny returns to South Park. The first person he meets is a less recognizable Craig Tucker who reveals he's in remission. Slash.


**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Hey look I'm writing about something I've never written about before... and it isn't completely hopeless.**

 **Also, this fic definitely doesn't have anything to do with the same-titled movie/novel :b**

 **Warnings: OOC, cancer**

* * *

So, I'm back in South Park after nearly eight years. I'm twenty-three now. My stupid parents and Kevin got arrested when I was in grade ten and I ended up in a foster home in another state. At least Karen was with me. I think it would have killed me if they sent her somewhere else.

It took me a while to save up the money, but we've been working hard to move back home. Now that we're back, not much has changed. I guess that's how it is in tiny, redneck towns such as this. The air still smells the same. I keep seeing familiar people. All the stores and buildings and houses are the same. Stark's Pond is still there. Same with our old schools, K through 12.

I got a job lined up for me. I start next week. It's construction work, so it's definitely not going to be glamorous… but I don't mind. I like hands-on work.

It's Saturday. After a busy day of moving, I wander out by myself and end up at Skeeter's Bar - a place my dad used to frequent when I was a kid. I sit in the pub and I'm quiet after ordering a beer. I debate on chatting to the dark haired guy next to me, but he gets there first when he says my name –

"Kenny McCormick?" he asks, peering at me.

The voice is familiar – deep and nasally. It can only belong to one person. That's when I turn my head and get a better look at him. When I do, I can't hide the surprise. "Craig Tucker?" I nearly exclaim in response and he simply nods.

He looks a hell of a lot different. Length wise, his black hair is about three inches and definitely shorter than he used to wear it. He's too thin and he looks frail – kind of like a recovering drug addict or something. His skin is paler than ever, too. I remember thinking he was pretty when we were younger. I guess he still is, but he looks tired at the same time.

"Man, you look ill," I tell him bluntly. "Life getting' to yah?"

He doesn't look amused. "I had cancer twice, asshole," he says.

I feel my jaw drop. "Oh, shit…" I say. "Sorry, tough break… Are you okay now?"

He shrugs. "In remission again, so yeah, I guess I'm okay."

"What was it like?" I pry, unable to help myself.

He rolls his eyes, probably because it's a question he gets a lot. "I got to smoke a lot of weed because chemo made me wanna fucking kill myself. So, that was all right…"

I chuckle at that. "Nice."

He smiles faintly. "When I was younger my dad had to get it for me. That was before they legalized it… Some people found out and thought it was fucked up that he was getting weed for his kid, but I probably would've actually honestly killed myself without it…"

"Damn," I murmur. "Well, he was doing the right thing. I think any parent would want to save their child from that kind of pain."

"Mm," Craig muses in agreement. "Chemo is basically poison… and it's the worst pain. My parents grow plants now and we use all the parts for different things."

"How long have you been in remission?" I ask.

"For about four months," he says.

"I hope it stays that way," I tell him.

He smiles bitterly, looking miserable. "Me, too."

.

.

Craig is the first to leave. I continue bumming around the bar for a few more drinks before finally dragging my ass back to my apartment.

"Hey," I shout.

Karen pokes her head around the corner. "You smell like a brewery. Were you at the pub?"

"Yeah," I tell her. "I saw Craig."

"Oh," she says with a slight smile. "I wonder if Ruby is still around… I should call her."

"You should," I respond.

They were best friends, after all.

I head back to my bedroom and put on my pyjamas. I can't stop thinking about Craig and what he told me.

Cancer…

Shit.

I used to have a crush on Craig back in school. I was a bit of an asshole to him, but it's just because I didn't really know what to do with my feelings. Besides, we were all pretty rotten to one another at that age.

When I think about Craig, I remember that he has a big pink birthmark that looks like the map of Russia. It's on his hip and it kind of curves around and reaches his right butt cheek. Cartman once pointed it out in the locker rooms after gym class and asked Craig if he was a burn victim. When Craig said it was a birth mark, Cartman started laughing and calling all the other guys over to check it out. Craig was pretty insecure about it after that.

I guess that kind of behaviour isn't really atypical for a bunch of fourteen year old boys.

I sit on the edge of my bed, surveying my room. It's small, but I think it's pretty nice. My dresser is parallel to my nightstand and my closet is parallel to my bed. There's also a decently sized window. Most of my shit is still in boxes, but I'll unpack it eventually.

Soon, Karen wanders into my room with a steaming mug in her hand. "Tea," she says, handing it to me.

"Thanks," I say to her.

She sits on the edge of my bed and says, "So, did you see anyone else?"

I shake my head. "Just Craig."

"How was it?" she pries.

"He had cancer, y'know," I mention.

She frowns at that. "Really…?"

"He's okay now," I add, "but… yeah… he had cancer."

"Shit," she murmurs.

"Yeah, shit…" I echo.

.

.

The following night, after settling in, I finally decide to call Kyle, Stan and Cartman. It feels weird, though, since we never kept in touch. Nonetheless, they all seem happy to hear from me. Now that I'm back, I'll be seeing them a lot more. South Park has always been a pretty close-knit town.

When the apartment is finally set up, I invite them all over. Turns out, Stan married Wendy and they now have a little kid. Weird. Time sure flies. Apparently they run a daycare. Kyle, on the other hand, is a dental hygienist and Cartman works in a call center. It seems like everyone has their shit together, which is reassuring… because as kids, we weren't the most stable bunch.

I feel like I'm getting back the life I missed while I was away and it's a nice feeling. It finally feels like I'm home. This is the place I want to be. I really fucking missed it when I was gone.

"I saw Craig the other night," I decide to tell them.

"Man, I feel bad for that poor fucker," Stan says while Kyle simply nods in agreement.

"Yeah, even I wouldn't make his life hellish," Cartman snorts. "His life sucks."

"Yeah, he told me about the cancer," I say solemnly.

"And his partner left him," Kyle adds. "Guess when things got grim, he couldn't handle it."

The part about his sexuality doesn't surprise me. It's something everyone always knew about Craig. It was never really a secret.

"Damn," I whisper. "That's so fucking sad…"

"It's isolating," Stan murmurs. "I can't even imagine it. You can tell he's lonely as hell."

"Anyway, enough of the depressing shit," Cartman decides.

"Yeah, tell me what else has been going on," I say with a smile.

So, they do.

As it turns out, Cartman has a special lady of his own and so does Kyle. Cartman is now dating Annie Knitts, which I find kind of funny. Kyle, on the other hand, is engaged to Rebecca Tucker.

It seems like everybody has somebody.

.

.

The following weekend, I head back to the bar and I see Craig there again. I sit down with him and say, "Is this going to become a pattern?"

He chuckles and says, "Yeah, maybe."

He orders me a drink and we talk. I think Stan was right. He's lonely. Maybe that's why he always comes here. I get that feeling from him. Sure, he has plenty of friends and family, but he wants more than that.

"Tell me about it…?" I request softly, knowing he'll know what I'm referring to.

He laughs bitterly. "You sure you want to know? It's a depressing and long story."

"I want to know," I tell him sincerely.

"I was sixteen and in complete denial," he starts.

"Jeez," I murmur.

He nods his head. "I was never hungry, I was always tired, I was weak, I had night sweats and chills and fevers. My fucking BONES hurt. I had weird spots on my body and bruises that came out of nowhere. I lost a bit of weight… and I still didn't think much of it. I thought I was just in need of exercise or something, but one day I had a fucking seizure and took a spill down the stairs which landed me in the hospital. The doctors wanted to run tests after my parents told them that it seemed like my health was declining."

Sixteen… so damn young.

That's a year after I left South Park.

"That must have been scary…" I sympathize.

"So, they said it was leukemia," he says with a sigh. "I was stupid," he murmurs. "After my diagnosis I just… I lost it. My parents were crying and the doctors said that it could go either way. There was a fifty percent chance I'd live, a fifty percent chance I'd die. I feel like I could have done something about it sooner if I was willing to face what was really going on."

"Shit," I say softly.

"I was kind of… I don't know," he pauses. "I was the kind of person who didn't experience life to the fullest. So, that weekend I decided to go with Clyde to a party. He was always trying and I was always saying no, but that time I finally agreed. I got drunk and I finally lost my virginity in an empty bathroom to some guy whose name I don't even remember. I decided to do all the stupid things that teenagers are supposed to do. And I did. Clyde called me out in it the following week at school. He asked me what the fuck I was doing and I just lost my shit in the hallway and started crying and I told him I had fucking leukemia and was probably gonna die. That's kind of how everyone found out about it."

"Man, rough…" I murmur.

Clyde was always sensitive. He probably took the news hard.

Craig nods his head. "Not shortly afterward, I left school to begin treatment. I wasn't really in shape to attend classes. People came to see me a lot. I kind of hated it, though… I was so insecure. I mean, I used to like the way I looked. I know a lot of teenagers can't really say that, but I sincerely thought I was attractive and… Well, when I got thin and lost all my hair I felt bad about myself. I felt… old, ugly…"

I frown at that. "I'm sorry…"

He shrugs. "Eventually I got better. Everyone was shocked when the treatment actually started to work because you hear all these depressing stories where chemo does nothing. Skip to some time later. I go back to high school and finish with everyone else after a game of catch-up. I get a mundane job at the bank. Then I start getting tired again. All the symptoms started coming back."

I wince.

"I had a boyfriend," he confesses. "Well, fiancé, actually… We were gonna get married. We were planning the wedding, but then I my cancer came back for the second time. I mean, he knew I had cancer when I was a teenager but neither of us expected it to come back. He tried to stick it out with me, but it became too much for him and one day he just left. I woke up alone on the bathroom floor after a night of intense vomiting. Usually he'd carry me back to bed, but he wasn't around to do that. I thought he'd be back later in the day, but he wasn't. Time passed and I realized he fucked off because most of his things were gone. I moved back in with my parents so I wouldn't have to go through it all alone. It was long and messy."

"Shit, I'm really sorry, dude…" I murmur sincerely.

He shrugs. "That's life, I guess. I just smoked a lot of weed. He saw me in the hospital a while into my chemo. I was bald and half-dead looking… He apologized. I forgave him. He came to see me again when I was cancer-free. That was a few weeks ago. He wanted me back. I knew he knew I was cancer-free. My hair started to grow back by then and I guess I looked more myself. I basically told him to fuck off. If he couldn't stick by me when I got sick, I didn't want to be with him at all. I guess I'm glad I got sick for that reason. If I got sick later, it'd be worse because we'd be married. It'd hurt more. It kind of showed me that he's not the person I'm meant to be with. He doesn't deserve me."

"Jesus…" I sympathize. "I'm really sorry, man."

He lets out a sigh. "I don't know what the hell I'll do if I get sick again… There never feels like there's anything I CAN do. So, I mostly just cry and feel sorry for myself and puke a lot because chemo really fucks with the system."

It doesn't seem fair. Craig seems like a nice enough guy and no one deserve to be bombarded with illness, especially at such a young age. He still has his whole life ahead of him.

"So much time has been taken away," he murmurs. "So much time spent in hospitals… and I know I'm not much to look at anymore."

"You still look good," I tell him. "Just… exhausted."

"Yeah, well, chemo is literally pumping chemicals into your body, so…" he trails off.

"Yeah," I respond. "I can't really imagine it."

"My parents went to a lot of support groups," he adds. "They were so fucking miserable. I mean, they were miserable the first time 'round… but when it happened again everyone was so hopeless. I think they thought that they'd really lose me."

"But they didn't," I say.

"They didn't," he echoes. "I know it might sound macabre… but if it happens again, I don't want to survive it. I just want it to be over. I mean… how can someone be this unlucky? I feel like I'm just waiting for it at this point…"

"Bad things always happen to good people," I murmur. "It's not fair, but it's life."

"Yeah," he agrees with distaste. "I suppose so. I hope that this is it… I don't really want to die. I want to live. There are things I still want to do once I feel up to it."

"Like what?" I pry.

"I want to go somewhere," he says. "I don't really know where… but I haven't left Colorado even once in my life, so I'd like to get out. I want to fall in love again and do it with the right person this time… then get married, maybe adopt some kids or whatever…"

"Everyone should get to do those things," I whisper.

"Yeah," he says with a bitter laugh. "I guess my list isn't very exciting…"

I smile faintly. "Y'know, I used to have a crush on you when we were kids," I decide to confess to him.

He snorts at that. "Funny. I used to have a crush on you, too. A pretty huge one."

"Too bad one of us hadn't said something."

"Would you have stuck around?" he asks, glancing at me.

"Of course," I tell him. "I'm not a selfish asshole. I would have been scared, yeah, but I wouldn't have run away."

I don't know how someone could run away from a situation like that and not feel like the worst scum of the earth.

"That was the worst time of my life," he admits solemnly. "I was on a transplant list because nothing was going right. I kind of lost hope and began isolating myself… but then once day they said they found a match." He wrinkles his nose a bit, almost like he's trying to will away his emotions. I guess the topic is pretty touchy and sensitive. "Um… all of my friends all went to see if they were a bone marrow match for me."

My lips part. "Wow…"

"Clyde was a match," he says. "So, he saved my life."

I smile softly. "He must fucking love you."

Craig smiles back. "He does. It's a painful procedure, which is why I never expected them all to get together and actually see if they were a match for me… I'm grateful. I feel like he cried every time he visited me, but… he never stopped coming to see me. He's my best friend."

"I'm really glad he was there for you like that," I say genuinely.

"Me, too," Craig responds. "I work with him now – him and Bebe… who is now his wife. We work for this graphics company. It's pretty dull, office work… but I don't mind. I missed working while I was sick. I definitely don't take it for granted anymore."

I smile again. "I like that. It's kind of like… a happy ending."

"I hope it stays that way," he says with a little laugh.

"Me, too," I tell him.

He checks the time on his phone and sucks air in between his teeth. "Ah, I should head out…"

"So… see you next weekend?" I ask.

He chuckles at that. "Sounds good."

He gets up, throwing some money onto the counter before wandering off.

.

.

It becomes a regular thing – me seeing Craig on Saturday nights. We meet up, we talk and then we part ways.

This time, however, is different. We don't talk about work and weather or the fact that he had cancer. Instead, we talk about love-things and at the end of the night he invites me back to his place. The invitation takes me off guard, but I accept it gladly.

We take a taxi across town. The drive isn't long, but it would have been a hellish walk in this snowy weather.

Soon, we're in front of a string of tall townhouses. Craig pays the driver and we get out walking up the nearest driveway. Craig digs out his keys and we step inside. I feel like you can tell a lot about a person by seeing where they live. By what I see at Craig's home… I can sense that he is organized and clean, for sure. Perhaps a little bit anal, too.

"When did you move in here?" I ask as he gives me a tour.

"Last month," he says. "When I was okay again, I decided to try and get back some of my independence by leaving my parents' house."

I nod my head, surveying the area. "It's real nice. Tidy, too."

"I don't like messes," he says.

I smile a bit. "Yeah, I kinda got that impression… This place is pretty nice, but isn't it a bit big for one person?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I kind of decided something when I was looking for a place to live. I didn't want a temporary residence. I wanted somewhere I could see myself REALLY living… like, forever. This place kind of spoke to me in that sense. I can see myself here, living with a husband, maybe raising a child… There's definitely enough space for it."

I soften at that. "Yeah…" I whisper.

He lets out a little laugh. "All I have right now is a cat, though…"

"A cat is still company," I tell him.

He smiles bleakly and says, "I suppose so."

We settle in the living room and Craig grabs beers from the kitchen, handing me one. I nod my thanks, cracking it open and taking a long swig.

Neither of us is drunk, but I can tell we're both feeling tipsy. I feel like I know where this night is going to lead, but I feel kind of vain and overly hopeful for assuming so. I like to think of myself as a people person - someone who is good at reading people. Craig is someone I always had a hard time reading, but right now is different. I can tell by the way he's been staring at me all night. Maybe it's because he wants me to know.

"Ruby was glad to see Karen again," Craig mentions.

"Yeah, Karen was really happy to see Ruby again, too," I tell him. "Kinda like how I was happy to see you again."

"I was happy to see you, too. I'm not really a social person… I know I have many friends, but I don't really invite people over much. Everyone is so busy with their own lives. I guess that's adulthood. I feel like I kind of missed out on when it all started, though… because I had cancer." He rolls his eyes. "Sometimes it makes me feel younger, you know? I mean… I feel burdensome. They all did so much for me, but I didn't do much for them in return."

"You survived," I say softly. "I think that was plenty."

He stares at me almost critically, like he's studying my face, my reactions, my sincerity. "Do you…" he pauses, trailing off and pressing his lips together.

"Do I…?" I question.

He rolls his eyes at himself and scoffs. "I haven't done this before," he murmurs. "Uh… do you wanna come upstairs?"

.

.

So, that is how it starts.

I slept with Craig and he told me he hadn't been laid in two years. Then he admitted he was lonely and he asked if I'd still be there when he woke up. I told him I would be and in the morning I made him breakfast. I kind of had to rummage around his kitchen for a while, but I managed to scrape something nice together. When he came downstairs, he cried. I don't really get why because he didn't explain it, but maybe he felt overwhelmed. Maybe it all felt distantly familiar and he was thinking about the last time he woke up to a guy making him breakfast. I don't really know. All I know is that I'd like to do it again. I'd like to be the one to make him feel a little less lonely.

"I like you," I tell him the next time I see him. I decide to call him up the day after our little fling and this time, we meet for coffee.

"Since when?" he wonders, staring down into his tea.

"Since I saw you sitting in the bar for the first time in years," I tell him. "I guess my old crush came back."

"Do you think I'm attractive?" Craig asks offhandedly. "I know it sounds shallow and unimportant… but I want people to think I'm attractive."

"It doesn't sound shallow," I promise. "I think you're beautiful. I always have."

"Even now?" he murmurs.

"Of course," I tell him sincerely.

"I like you, too," he says decidedly. "Though, I suppose that is obvious… old feelings always come back, don't they?"

I smile at that. "So does this mean…?"

"Ask me," he says, smiling back.

I let out a little chuckle. "Wanna _go_ with me?"

"Yeah, I'll _go_ with you," he says before wondering, "Hey, what if it comes back someday?"

I shrug. "Then we'll deal with it."

"Together?"

"Yeah, together."

He closes his eyes, seeming satisfied with that much. "Yeah… all right."

 **Fin.**


End file.
